Red Skies
by milkmoth
Summary: ItaSaku He couldn't be what she wanted, but she saw what she wanted to see.


a/n: This can be such an enticing couple when done right. I had a LOT of trouble, but I hope I did it right. Or at least semi-decently.:) They're a hard couple to smash together, but I hoped in my plot to connect them in a way that was at least a little different than (though perhaps not as plausible as) the whole adopted-by-the-Akatsuki scenario.

Review, please, if you liked it. :)

* * *

It's always the dark ones. 

It was why she fell for Sasuke in the first place – he was troubled, dangerous, talented – a storm of silent, smoldering emotion. What young, teenaged girl wouldn't go for that?

Which girl could _resist _that?

And it was why she could never fall for a angel like Naruto, who was sweet enough for a friend, with his ramen and 'Sakura-chan's and big grin.

And it was why, after years of suffering, she found her memories of Sasuke growing faint, and her longing for him growing sharp.

And that's why, when she found _him_, he was all that she ever needed and ever wanted.

* * *

It wasn't intentional. 

She would swear on her life, to her mentor, and she knows that she will be strapped into a chair and tortured by Ibiki, forced to swear, if anyone finds out it happened.

But there are some things that should stay secret. This kind of love was conducted in shadows, and that is precisely why the kisses tasted so good.

She would feel too dirty outside of her dreams.

* * *

She enters her home and flips on the light-switch. 

She starts, she freezes.

Akatsuki.

_Akatsuki._

(_Here in her home, what the hell is happening…!?!)_

Her heart goes into hyperdrive.

It's hard to make up lost ground when this Akatsuki's already snuck into her village and her _own home_. There's little she can do now.

(_She calculates in her head; she's exhausted from her work with Tsunade, but she has seventeen knives in her pack, seventeen knives, she notices, for her seventeen years; and if she puts all her energy into it, she can use them and maybe manage to get away with her life; if she's lucky, with all of her limbs inta-)_

Pale hands.

Beautifully pale.

_Sasuke's_.

And the eyes, the eyes. He looks up slowly from his hat and she sees the eyes and they make her sick. They're red, but they're not Sasuke's. He's too old. The eyes scream, _blood!_ He gives her shivers, unpleasant ones.

And she's so frozen by the resemblance that she doesn't make any move to touch her knives.

And all at once, she's looking into those eyes and he's looking into hers – and she doesn't know what's wrong with her, because of what Kakashi told her –_don't look _– but she's looking, maybe because it's so easy to imagine Sasuke with her right now or is it just the shock of the whole situation?

Is it the shock of how she's feeling?

_Like he was Sasuke. _

And she's jerked into his world, and the next time she blinks she's staring up at those red eyes, framed by a red sky.

Paralyzed, kneeling, on the ground.

He looks at her. She can't feel air; and it's the oddest, most uncomfortable situation she's ever been faced with. She breathes, but it feels terrible and unnatural. She wants to die, and that's saying a lot for a shinobi trained against torture.

Ibiki had never taught about the Uchiha eyes.

(She should've listened to Kakashi.)

She says, not without labor:

"Uchiha Itachi."

He does not reply.

"What…."

That is all she can manage before she feels faint, feels her eyes rolling back, but she won't let herself fall that way and closes them forcefully, _forcing _herself to strain her ears at every sound in this soundless, painful hell.

Uchiha Itachi just looks down at her, and she struggles to open one eye to look up at him.

"You are close to Tsunade-sama."

He has no trouble speaking, or breathing.

But, it's _his _reality.

"And you are going to get me names."

"… of _whom?_" she gags. It feels like hands are tightening around her throat. His. Though he is still standing passively, apathetically, three feet before her.

"Anyone whom it would be in the Akatsuki's best interest to dispose of. Your most talented jounin. And those involved with the Kyuubi."

"_Never_," she spits, but her voice comes out as no more than a choke.

His hands. They're choking her. She's dying.

_I'll have been a good shinobi, right to the last_.

She tries to smile at the thought, but it comes out twisted.

_I don't want to die._

And then, without any warning, she can breathe – _air!_ – and no one is choking her. When her eyes snap open, it's not Itachi she sees, but, only an inch away from her…

… _Sasuke._

He closes the gap, and his lips meet hers.

The kiss is more than she'd ever expected.

In all of her daydreams, and the dreams she would never admit to having, Sasuke could never kiss like this.

But this reality is messing with her senses, and she feels Sasuke's lips on hers, and when she reaches to put her arms around his his neck (_she's not paralyzed, either) _it's Sasuke's form that she feels. It's Sasuke's hands that are on her back, sliding down, and she feels a shiver of pleasure – _just a small tremor_ – and it's Sasuke's voice that says her name, almost a moan – _Sakura - _

And just as soon as he appeared, he's gone.

Sakura slowly raises her eyes to stare up at Itachi. She's breathing – panting, actually – and he stands there impassively.

She can't tell whether her Sasuke was an illusion or him. Both are an illusion, really, but she lies to herself and tells herself she prefers the former.

The sky is no longer-blood red. His eyes are, though, and they suck her in. It's like there's only them, in this darkness, this nothing.

She feels like she's going to vomit.

"If you don't fear death, then I'll let you feel deprivation."

She tries to pull out of his eyes, but can't. They hypnotize her. They're like Sasuke's, but so much crueler.

"I know you love my younger brother."

She does not reply, even though now she is in a physical state to do so.

"You have not seen him in a long time. And he doesn't return your feelings. He's too consumed by his desire for revenge."

Sakura remembers why she hates him so much, why she couldn't stand the sight of him each time they'd fought before now.

She supposes that she forgot herself. That it's her own fault, you could say, that she's stuck in this hell instead of with the Hokage, getting help. He paralyzed her before she'd even stepped into this hallucination.

(_Because it had been so long since Sasuke had said her name; had said anything warmly to her.)_

She feels her eyes shut, though not of her own volition.

She feels Itachi's hand on her face, and without sight he doesn't even need full illusions – on a slight twist on her sense – to make her believe that he is Sasuke.

"_Sakura-_"

She can't resist.

And he knows, because when she wakes up, it's in an empty, darkened apartment, and she's half-wondering if it was all some kind of sick dream.

* * *

"I'll get the paperwork for you, Tsunade-sama." 

"Thank you, Sakura."

Sakura does not miss the suspicious glance that Tsunade gives her. She's been pale – Tsunade even asked her if she was sick, to which Sakura replied that of course she was not.

And she's being all too good today.

Sakura firmly decides that she was dreaming yesterday. She obviously hasn't gotten enough rest. She's been working too hard with her job.

But she leaves her knives at the Hokage's office, and a little corner of her mind prepares for death.

She will never, never betray Tsunade by doing what he wishes, and now that he has her cornered and hooked, there is only one thing to do. And that is to be brave.

* * *

When she gets home, her heart is beating wildly. She wonders if it's hormones or fear. Or both. 

She creeps through the house. She will not stand for being surprised again. She will face her demons honorably, even if they look like Sasuke.

He's not anywhere.

Puzzled, paranoid, she eats a tentative dinner and goes to bed in her clothes. They are dirty from all the medical work she'd done that day.

Her dreams are not so uneventful.

* * *

Because he's there again, and she has the terrible feeling that he's standing right near her bed. 

She figures that she is tossing and turning, and he is just standing there in the moonlight – apathetic. Passive. Emotionless.

But in the dream, he only tweaks her senses and he is still Itachi, but she kisses his and whispers Sasuke's name, because in this reality he is Sasuke in every way.

He asks again for the names.

* * *

Again and again, she comes home from Tsunade. Sometimes, she even goes out for ramen with Naruto – though she hardly feels like it anymore, and he, even more than Tsunade, notices that she's constantly looking over her shoulder. 

At home, it is even worse.

And the dreams get even better.

"You're taking too long," he says after what feels like forever, in a low, flat voice, and her eyes go right again so she can see him as Itachi.

It feels terrible to be pulled out of Sasuke's arms, back to when his hell is just hell and not sin. He's drugged her. He's made her want Sasuke – this artificial Sasuke… _him _– so badly that she can't think straight.

His mouth goes to her ear, and for once, it's Itachi that she wants.

"I want the Kyuubi himself."

* * *

That day, she does not go to work. But she can't stay in bed, or even in her little house, for that matter. 

She wanders around town, eye sockets gouged hollow.

There are three options:

Naruto, Itachi, or herself.

She could never kill Naruto – he's been her best friend for years, he's been her only crutch, really, since Sasuke left. He's too kind, too precious. And she'd be letting down her village, perhaps the world, by simply handing the Kyuubi to the Akatsuki.

It is no wonder he came to her first. There are top Anbu officers outside of Naruto's apartment day and night.

She has heard, by this time, about the five dead Anbu suspiciously found outside the city. One other was killed last night. She feels her stomach twist. He probably spotted Itachi. God knew where Itachi was hiding – he couldn't possibly be within Konoha itself…

Or could he?

She shakes the thought of her head. What a silly, irrational idea, to think of Itachi playing the monster in her closet. (_Although, really, that's close enough._)

She doesn't want to kill herself. She knows she would offer her life be killed by enemy hands, but she knows that she doesn't really have the guts to kill herself. But, then, that's no surprise – she couldn't even resist Sasuke's – no, _Itachi's – _touch.

She doesn't want to kill him, though, either.

And the enormity with which she doesn't scares her, and makes suicide look like the easier option.

Naruto rushes over, looking worried for her, but she runs away and home before she can think too much of how his sweet face would look dead.

She doesn't feel like crying anymore today.

* * *

She goes home that night. She takes pills for sleep. She's needed them, lately. Before she had Tsunade make some up for her, she would lie in bed, awake and heart pounding. Adrenaline would not let her dream, as much as she wanted too. 

Surprisingly, it's the same tonight. Even though she has the feeling she's about to face her death. That same rush of fear and longing, and the way she'll compare the cold demon that is Itachi to Sasuke – Sasuke, who she knows, deep, deep down, still has a heart.

Which is more she can say for Itachi.

She doesn't even know him, but if he could massacre his family and manipulate her into considering killing her best friend, he isn't the sort of man she should be lusting after.

Or possibly even more, although she has no idea how 'more' can spring so quickly from lust.

It's because she's mixing him up with Sasuke again. She just knows it.

* * *

She wakes up. 

She stares out the window.

She stares at the wall.

He didn't come.

She closes her eyes.

She opens them again.

He didn't come.

She stares out the window some more, hears the birds chirp. She reaches her sheets up to her mouth, as if trying to cover up the way her lip has just quivered – but, no, she'll try not to do that again – or maybe hoping that she can block out this reality, the reality that isn't theirs.

She feels hollow and gouged out, and for once it's not _because of _Itachi, but for _lack _of him.

_I'm insane,_ she notes with awe.

* * *

_There is one incident that sticks out in her memory, though most of those nights are blurs, sharp in emotion and unclear in content. _

_His lips have less-than-gently parted from hers and she can hear him breathing. They've both come down to a kneeling position. His hands are around her face, hers around his._

_It's almost gentle._

_He kisses her again._

_She breathes his name, though she's not sure he can hear it:_

_"-Itachi."

* * *

_

She wonders why he's spared her, but she doesn't think he'll ever come back to give her an answer.

* * *

Naruto puts his arms around her and smiles at her, because her eyes don't have the shadows they've taken up these past few weeks. And Tsunade even beams at her, because Sakura, as she says, look a lot healthier. 

And Sakura feels a lot healthier.

But every night she feels heavy, because she knows even if she ever dreams of him again, they will be the kind of dreams where she can't actually feel him.


End file.
